


Pink and White

by kittywampus



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Endgame, M/M, Prison, mention of medication, uhh I'm not sure what else to add let me know if I need to add something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 19:06:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittywampus/pseuds/kittywampus
Summary: Endgame moments.





	Pink and White

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. We got endgame. Some of the ideas in here were taken from Twitter, fanart. Credit to the people who though of it first, (I made sure to ask permission :) )

He’s laying on top of Mickey. _He’s laying on top of Mickey._

He’s kissing Mickey. _He’s kissing Mickey._

He’s feverishly kissing Mickey, like a man starved. He is, and the scent of Mickey mixed with the feel of his lips is messing with his head. Was this really happening?

“Is this really happening?” He asked out loud, pulling away when he needed air. The hand on the back of his neck grounded him. He had one hand on Mickey’s cheek, the other holding his wrist to the bed, warmth of his skin seeping into his hands.

“Looks like it,” Mickey replied, smirk on his lips. “The fuck did you do to your hair?” He chuckled while musing the back of Ian‘s head. “Miss me?” He teased, eyebrows raised like a little shit.

“You have no fucking idea,” he nearly groaned, feeling bold in the moment. “Fucking love you,” he exhaled, smashing his lips back into Mickey’s with the same fervor.

-

Ian’s still in a daze. He has no fucking idea how any of this is even possible. Shit like this doesn’t happen, not to him. Not to Mickey. _Mickey_.

It’s been a week. It’s been a whirlwind but he caught on fast. It’s obvious Mickey’s well respected, has a reputation. They can’t do flowery shit like hold hands outside of their cell, but no one gives them shit otherwise. In their cell, it’s different. It’s not completely private, but it’s close enough. They can bang and cuddle and no one gives a fuck, because Mickey’s a fucking badass.

It’s been a week, and Ian has a lot to say. He has a lot of questions for Mickey, about the deal he got with the feds and how his sentence was so light. He wonders how he got in with a cartel, if his plan was to snitch all along so he didn’t have to run anymore. He also has a lot to say, about the border.

Lights out comes, and they’re crowded in Mickey’s bunk.

“This shits just like your old piece of trash bed,” Mickey groused, situating Ian’s arm around him, his back to Ian’s front. He chuckled because Mickey was right, but he thinks his bed back at home is more comfortable. Their legs are tangled together, his forehead pressed to the back of Mickey’s head so he could inhale his scent. He’s tired, and Mickey’s breathing is slowing down, but Ian has to say something.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. It wasn’t too loud, but loud enough.

“Huh?” Mickey grunted, clearly not thrilled from being kept from sleep.

“I said.. I’m sorry,” he murmured, hand curling around Mickey’s. “I should’ve gone with you.. To Mexico,” he said slowly, thumb tracing patterns on Mickey’s hand.

That seemed to get Mickey’s attention. He looked over his shoulder, sighed, and rolled to face him. Mickey placed a hand on Ian’s cheek, stroked his thumb over the slight stubble a few times. “Was pretty selfish of me though, right? Tryn’a get you to to abandon your whole life to run away with your old flame?” He joked, but Ian could see past it.

“Not an old flame,” Ian murmured absently, hand going to Mickey’s hip. His eyes darted to Ian’s lips. “I had my reasons at the time but.. Fuck, when I got back, shit just hit the fan, you know?” He sighed, absentmindedly pulling Mickey closer. “My mom died.. Boyfriend situation was a shitshow,” he shrugged and rolled his eyes at the memory. “Stopped taking my meds after a while, just got to be too much,” he chuckled to himself. “I’m sure you saw the gay Jesus shit on TV, huh?”

Mickey laughed quietly, “yeah, that shit was fucking insane,” he chuckled when Ian slapped his ass in retaliation. “Gotta admit, thought you didn’t go because of your family and your job,” he murmured.

Ian felt Mickey’s walls start to lower, a rare occurrence, especially inside. “That.. was the plan, yeah,” he reasoned. “After my mom died.. People just kind of brushed it under the rug. I couldn’t focus on much, so I stopped taking my meds and tried helping my ex with some youth.. Long story, but, it turned in to too much too fast.. Lost control of it and, fuck, I lost my job and for what? A movement that got too fucking out of hand.. I should’ve— I should’ve gone with you,” his eyes felt wet, but he didn’t care. “It wasn’t fair of me to be on board until the last second, you know? I led you on and— and for that, I’m sorry,” he breathed, eyes meeting Mickey’s.

Before Mickey could speak, Ian gently shoved his shoulder, “you’re not off the hook for getting your ass locked up again, by the fucking way,” he frowned. “You were supposed to be free.. The fuck happened to that?”

Mickey cupped the side of Ian’s neck before speaking, “Ian, what you and I have, makes me free.”

Ian exhaled slowly. He didn’t know what to say to that, couldn’t say anything. He remembered when Mickey first said that, of course he did. He leaned forward quickly, hand pressed to Mickey’s cheek as he kissed him slowly. After a few minutes of making out, they pulled away for a breath.

“You gonna let me sleep now, Gallagher? Or you wanna braid each others hair?” He teased with a smirk. Ian laughed, slapped Mickey’s ass and wrestled him back into being the little spoon.

-

He’s taking his meds again. He knows he feels better when he takes them, despite the side effects. He goes aside before breakfast to take them every morning, and Mickey’s always quiet when he comes back. He’s not dumb, he knows why. He knows Mickey’s trying to not step on his toes. It’s nice, sort of.

They’re at breakfast, and Ian wants Mickey to talk to him. Everyone knows what they are, no one gives them shit. Ian finds himself grateful once again for Mickey’s reputation. He feels like being a shit, if it means getting Mickey’s attention. He’s sitting across from him, and he grabbed his jell-o. The red kind, Mickey’s favorite.

Mickey was talking with someone next to him, in Spanish. Which was another thing Ian had yet to ask about, but that was something for later.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. His fucking eyebrows. Ian loves him so much.

“You tryn’a get stabbed?” The man who he was talking to says. He sounds like he’s half playing, half serious. He’s got a smirk on his face. “You just gonna take that, Milkovich?” He chuckled.

Ian peeled back the lid and dipped into it with his spoon, taking a bite while maintaining eye contact with Mickey. He couldn’t help himself, he smiled.

The man next to Mickey made a whipping sound, and Mickey retaliated by stealing his jell-o. He said an expletive in Spanish, to which Mickey deflected with a menacing look. A badass, Ian thought to himself. His badass.

-

Shower time is always interesting. He and Mickey always shower beside each other, and it’s nice. He hates thinking of Mickey as his guard dog, but it sort of seems that way. He grateful, because he has some semblance of safety in a rather scary place. It’s minimum security and he stays out of trouble, but it’s not all sunshine and flowers.

He’s good at minding his business, and sometimes Mickey minds it for him. Like when some beefed up con stares at his junk in the showers. Mickey’s gaze flickered to where the con’s line of vision led to, and in an instant he was in his face. It was almost comical, Mickey was half his size.

“Ay,” he said, voice loud enough to be heard through the showers. “Keep your eyes on your own balls, pal, that shits mine,” eyebrows in full force. “Ain’t gonna have to tell you twice, right?” He sounded so smug, and Ian turned a little pink around the ears.

“I wasn’t fuckin’ looking, back off,” the guy grunted, stepping away slightly. It was very comical now, the dude had to be at least a foot taller than Mickey. Shit, he even surpassed Ian.

“Yeah, alright,” Mickey scoffed and made his way back under the spray, giving Ian a smug smirk.

A little shit. A little fucking shit.

-

They still fought sometimes, nothing too big, but enough for Ian to retreat to his bunk with a firm pout on his face. Like tonight, when they were bickering  about stupid shit. Honestly, he can’t even remember who started it or what the fuck it was even about. It was difficult to sleep without Mickey, especially recently.

He tossed and turned for a while, huffing moodily at the uncomfortable bunk. He swore Mickey’s was more comfortable, but he’d never admit that, not right now when he was just fine throwing a temper tantrum. After a few minutes of this, he heard a soft, “for fucks sake.” He shut his eyes quickly when he heard Mickey get out of his bunk and hoist himself up on top.

“I know you’re awake, you big baby,” he teased and situated himself right in front of Ian, hands going to frame his cheeks. He did his best to be unbothered, but he couldn’t help but relax into his touch. Much to his surprise, he felt a kiss on his cheek. Then his other cheek, then his nose, then his eyelid, then the other. He scrunched up his face, eyes opening to see Mickey leaning back slightly,  happy with himself. “You done giving me the chin, tough guy?”

“The chin?” Ian asked, wrinkling his nose when Mickey flicked his jut out chin.

“Yeah, _the chin_ , you pout like a motherfucker when you don’t get your way,” he teased, leaning in to kiss Ian slowly.

 _“The chin_ ,” he thought as he let himself be kissed.

-

What he wasn’t expecting, was to get a visitor. Well, he was, and he’d gotten them a few times. Fiona was first, a mess of apologies and tears and some money to put in his commissary. When Lip came, he told him about Mickey.

He held the phone to his ear, smiling at his brother. He couldn’t help it, he was happy. It was a fucked up situation, and Lip probably wouldn’t approve, but he really did not care.

“How’s it going, hangin’ in there?” Lip asked, looking a little tired.

“I’m great actually,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Mickey’s my cell mate,” he blurted. Straight to the point, then.

“Milkovich?” Lip looked shocked, eyebrows climbing his forehead.

“Yeah,” he said, trying not to sound too dreamy.

“How in the fuck did that happen?”

Ian shrugged, shaking his head a little. “Dunno, haven’t gotten to ask him yet, but.. This is a good thing, Lip,” he smiled. “I.. I love him,” he said softly, smile on his lips.

"You on your meds?" Lip asked, silenced by Ian's annoyed glare. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t seem to keep you fuckers apart for long, huh?”

He just wasn’t expecting a visitor for both he and Mickey. He had no idea who it could be, until he did. When he saw them, both of them, he nearly tripped. “Holy shit,” he breathed out. Mickey led the way, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Svetlana?” Ian was the first to say something, sat beside Mickey at the small table they were allowed. Minimum security, he guessed. Plus, it was one visitor for two inmates and they’d been keeping up with good behavior.

“I cannot say I am surprised,” she started, and Ian’s eyes were drawn to Yevgeny next to her, playing with an action figure. He had to be at least five now. For some reason, it made Ian’s eyes mist up. “Maybe a little at you,” she nodded to Ian. “But Mikhailo, I expected,” she shrugged, arms crossed. “He’d chop off his arm to be with you, so I am not surprised that you are in here together,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

Mickey looked very uncomfortable, sat right across from his son. Shit, this was a lot.

“The fuck do you want?” Mickey finally mumbled, eyes tiredly looking at her. Ian, for some reason, felt like he was intruding.

“To give you a last chance at being a father,” she said, a hand moving to rest on top of Yevgeny’s head. “You too,” she looked at Ian. “I do not give second chances, but the opportunity has arisen,” her tone was final, and intimidating.

“Why?” Ian asked. He was a little confused. He’d abandoned her and Yevgeny, for lack of better words.

“Because my husband died and left me with money, and I would like to marry again, help with Yevgeny,” she shrugged. “Where the fuck else are two felons going to go, hm?” She asked, but her tone lightened. She was smirking. He missed her. Shit, he missed her.

Mickey finally spoke up, “does he even know who we are?” He asked, nodding at Yevgeny who wasn’t paying attention.

She shrugged, “I told him about you, yes. He is only five, so I kept it brief, but he knows who you are,” she murmured, saying something to Yevgeny in Russian. He looked up from his action figure shyly, smiling.

“Hi,” he waved and blushed a little. Fuck.

“Shit,” Mickey scrubbed a hand over his face. “You look just like your old man,” he said. Making Yevgeny smile and bury his face in his mother's arm.

Svetlana smiled knowingly, “think about it. I will be back next week,” she nudged her son gently, “say goodbye, zhenya.”

“Bye,” he said softly and waved at them both.

And if Mickey held him while he cried in their cell, it was only them who had to know.

-

Being close to Mickey was something he didn’t want to take for granted. In Mickey’s bunk, he wrapped an arm around his waist and didn’t stop himself from leaning forward to kiss him slowly, his hand moving to Mickey’s cheek. He slid his tongue past his lips, thumb pressing into the flesh of Mickey’s face. “You never told me how you got a deal with the feds,” he murmured, pulling away.

Mickey shrugged, hand resting on Ian’s ass. “Was planning on laying low, but that shit got stressful after a while. So, got involved with a cartel, cut a deal with the feds, got two years in a shithole of my choice.. And choice of a cellmate,” he waggled his eyebrows.

Ian chuckled, “timed shit perfectly.”

After some comfortable moments of silence, Ian spoke up again, interrupting Mickey’s snoozing. “What’re we gonna do.. When we get out of here?” He asked softly. He thought about that often, what their lives would look like after this.

“Well,” Mickey murmured. “Figured we’d give it a shot with Svet, seems to have her shit together,” he said with a hand stroking up and down Ian’s back. “Sort of figured he’d be better off without me or whatever.. But I kinda wanna give it another go with the whole.. Dad thing.” He looked slightly unsure, like Ian wouldn't want that too.

“Yeah, Mick.. Sounds amazing,” he smiled, not surprised when Mickey rolled on top of him to crowd his space and kiss him hard.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I will probably be starting a multi chapter fic based off their lives after they get out of prison.


End file.
